No Room for Tourists
by Hornswaggler
Summary: Arthur and Cobb finally have a job. When Cobb brings along a third man, however, Arthur is suspicious; a thief with no previous extraction experience? How will he help? Pre-Inception. Eames' first extraction job.
1. The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

**Inception = absolutely epic. I saw it three times in a week and totally fell in love. =3 SO I attempt a fan fiction!**

**I warn you now that it take me a while to get used to the characters. Luckily, this one is a year or two before the movie so there's a tiny bit of wiggle room. Please pardon any blatant OOC-ness anyway…and let me know about it!**

**Concept is simple; Eames obviously had worked with Cobb and Arthur before the inception. It just made me wonder what exactly the relationships would've been like at first. Mainly focusing on Arthur and Eames in this one; no slash implied unless you REALLY want to see it that way. IMHO, these two just have a rather bizarre friendship.**

**Christopher Nolan, in all his brilliance, owns Inception. I just own my brain and the ideas it comes up with. =3**

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><p>The warehouse, no matter how long they had been gone, always felt welcoming. It wasn't difficult to keep the rent paid for the place and no one felt compelled to barge in like often happened in houses or supermarket restrooms. Though they did their real work 'on the field', the warehouse was crucial for planning and testing. In their profession, one couldn't put three people to sleep safely without knowing first that the sedative worked. They had to gather information about the subject, make a game plan, think through the worst-case scenarios a few times, learn the design of the levels…none of which could very easily be done while trying to convince their target to stay unconscious. Arthur let himself lean back in the chair he sat in, examining the overhead lights. It hadn't taken long to set up their 'headquarters' again; the various lawn chairs were back in place, the briefcase sat next to the whiteboard - locked, of course - and, as usual, Cobb was late. Everything was back to what had become their normal.<p>

It had been less than a year since Mal's death. The entire thing had shaken the extractor hard - as was to be expected - and the murder charges had sent him on the run. Arthur hadn't heard from his partner until the month before when Cobb came across something that he apparently couldn't handle without a point man. From he could tell by the vague conversation over the phone, Cobb had managed a few quick extractions alone - ones simple enough to only need one man and that paid well enough to keep him in a hotel room. Now, though, they needed information. They needed details on the mark's life, his habits, his history - they needed a point man. It wasn't anything to complain about. Having to find work that didn't have to do with extraction was a bit difficult. He didn't exactly have experience in much besides digging up dirt on practically any name they gave him. Cobb had once jokingly suggested he could go into the FBI but that wasn't too likely - he wasn't positive but there was a good chance that the FBI didn't appreciate men with records of theft, kidnapping, and one murder. None of them could be proven, of course, but the idea was there.

The sound of the lock turning made Arthur look around, one hand automatically twitching toward the gun at his belt. Cobb was the only other person with a key, but paranoia won out all the same. It was only when the blonde man stepped inside, nodding quickly to his partner, that the tension vanished.

"Any tails?" Cobb shook his head, shrugging off the dripping jacket he wore and tossing it unceremoniously onto a nearby chair.

"Not that I saw. Thanks for setting up - the taxis apparently don't like rain any more than I do." Arthur nodded and any reply was lost as he noticed someone else closing the door behind them. He wasn't as tall as Cobb - not very surprising - but obviously carried himself with a good deal of confidence that was thrown off only slightly by his obvious unfamiliarity with the place. His dark brown hair was slicked to one side and a small part of Arthur's mind wondered what it was with this job and people gelling their hair. As Cobb hadn't acknowledged the stranger's presence yet, Arthur glanced over at the extractor quickly.

"No problems at the airport?"

"Passport checked out. Good thing, too; it certainly cost enough." Cobb sank into a chair, looking back up at the new man as if he had just remembered that he was there. "Introductions are in order, I think. This is-"

"Eames." British accent. Where had Cobb found a Brit? "Franklin Eames." Arthur accepted the offered handshake, nodding a bit curtly.

"Tobias Arthur," he returned. "You're from the UK?"

"From there. Stationed in Kenya. For now." Eames stuck both hands into his pockets, scanning the warehouse closely. "I'd guess the States on your part; West Coast?"

"Midwest. Mainly in Paris. For now." Vague answers from both of them. Cryptic people tended to make him even more paranoid. Apparently this man was accustomed to such answers, though; he simply nodded absently and looked over at Cobb as if inviting him to break the silence. The extractor took a moment to realize it, his eyes locked on the totem he was rolling between his fingers.

"Set up the PASIV," he finally told his point man who blinked questioningly. They hadn't even gone over the job yet. The unspoken question was answered a second later, however, and it wasn't an answer he had been expecting; "We'll take Eames through the basics today."

"The basics?" Arthur repeated incredulously. "Of extraction?" Cobb nodded, pushing himself to his feet again. He never seemed able to sit still for very long these days.

"He's coming with us." The statement was met with a heavy silence as the blonde man retreated to the other room. After a slight hesitation, Arthur followed, glancing back once at Eames who had begun to examine the papers scattered across one table. They were old - blueprints saved from the last job - but it introduced an automatic twinge of worry to see someone else with their work.

"He's coming with us?" There seemed to be a lot of repeating things recently. "Into the dream?" Cobb turned, arms crossing with a very small knowing smile.

"I thought you'd take badly," he muttered. "I know it's last minute, but there weren't many other options."

"But he hasn't even done this before." Arthur reminded him. "We can't have someone tagging along on this, Cobb. We could get arrested if we're _successful._ If you're right about Matthews, the consequences for failing…" He trailed off with a short sigh, his hands sinking into his pockets. "We don't have room for a tourist. It'll be hard enough already."

"I know." Cobb glanced back toward the main room as if hoping to see through the wall to where Eames was standing. "But he's not coming as a tourist. He's coming as our thief." Arthur blinked, an uncommon look of confusion passing over his face briefly.

"A thief? We need a thief on this?"

"We don't need _a _thief. We need _the _thief." He nodded toward the doorway. "Eames. I did research on him and he's the best - and flexible. There aren't too many men in his profession that are willing to even try something like this."

"But without the training-"

"That's why we train him." Cobb almost smirked, a small twitch of the lips that had long since given up any real smiles. "Or, more specifically, _you _train him. You can manage it faster than I could and we need him ready in a week." The two fell silent. Cobb was watching his partner closely as if he could make him agree with sheer willpower. After a moment Arthur sighed.

"He gets full blame if this goes south," he muttered. "I don't want to get killed because of some rookie mistake." Without waiting for the other man's response he turned on his heel and strode back into the large room, ignoring the look Eames gave him and heading straight for the PASIV.

"Everything alright, then?" the British man asked, strolling to stand beside Arthur as he opened the silver case.

"Of course." He kept his eyes on the red LED lights as he set the time and dosage, only looking up once the slight hiss indicated the vials of sedative were locked securely in place. "Have a seat." Eames shrugged lightly, sinking into one of the lawn chairs and letting himself recline. Arthur settled himself onto the one beside him, lifting the PASIV to rest in the middle. "I'll explain something quickly; Cobb is our extractor. You, apparently, are our thief. I'm the point man. I take whatever insane ideas the rest of the team thinks up and find a way to make them work. For now, however," he slid the small needle into his arm, gesturing for Eames to do the same, "I'm your trainer. The best way to learn about extraction is to just jump right into the dreams. If we can get you prepared quickly, we can actually get some work done."

"Fair enough." The thief barely flinched as he connected himself to the machine and Arthur vaguely wondered what previous experience with needles he had. "What exactly are we doing?" It was easier not to answer that question. The point man glanced over the device by his side again quickly verifying the settings before looking back up at Eames.

"You ready?"

"I would assume, but for what-" His question was cut off as Arthur pressed the button, the usual hiss seeming to echo through the room. He let himself lie back and his last view of the warehouse was of Cobb leaning in the doorway, a slightly wary look in his eyes before he felt himself being swallowed by sleep.

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><p><strong>Sorry this is so short. More like a prologue than anything else. x3<strong>

**Let me know how it is so far! Hopefully I can get the next bit up soon - I have the basics of what happens written in a notebook already. I just have to flesh it out more. (For example, this entire chapter was written as like…less than 20 lines on notebook paper.) **

**Reviews are absolutely adored. Tell me if I fail at the characters and give me any ideas you might have! ^^ I'm totally winging this.**

**Many kudos to ya, and long live the dream team! (Pun totally intended.)**

**~Waggy**


	2. The Projections

**Author's Note:**

**Woot fast update. =3 Really, I'll be much slower when I run out of ideas that I have in my notebook. Revel in the fastness for now!**

**This chapter was **_**very **_**fun. And in this one, we see some of the movie's classic lines turned into inside jokes. X3 That's what gave me the idea for this fic in the first place; wondering if Eames had ever teased Arthur about 'dreaming a little bigger'. Hope ya enjoy it!**

**I disclaim. That enough?**

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><p>He understood it. That much was slightly comforting. It almost made up for the fact that the man was the most arrogant, cocky, self-satisfied person Arthur had ever worked with.<p>

Almost.

It had only been two days, counting the day when they had taken Eames into his first shared dream. Only one dream the first day, as Cobb always said. Let the mind have a break to try and comprehend things before trying again. Lucid dreaming like that could seriously shake a person's view of things.

It hadn't shaken Eames in the slightest. That was one of the most annoying parts. He had taken a little longer than Arthur to fully awaken from the first dream, but that was only the physical body getting accustomed to being fed a sedative steadily for five minutes. He hadn't been disoriented or confused like most were once the brain caught up with the body, and that much was more impressive than Arthur would admit. It had taken _him _nearly two days just to get used to waking up from something that seemed far too real to be a dream.

"Come on, Arthur, you can't be jealous of this guy." Cobb seemed to find the entire situation far too amusing and Arthur shook his head adamantly.

"I'm not, I'm just…surprised. You're positive he hasn't done this before?"

"You're the point man," his partner felt compelled to remind him. "You looked him up. Were there any records pointing toward it?" Said point man sighed, one hand running idly over his gelled hair. He glanced over his shoulder when the door opened, announcing Eames' arrival - Cobb had given him a key after the second day even though one of them was always here when he arrived.

"If there were, he hid them too well for me to find," Arthur muttered quietly. "And that's saying something. He's just…fast. Faster than I expected."

"Maybe you set your standards too low."

"It's not hard to do when you know perhaps three others in the business." Cobb nodded, pushing his current sketches of a level into a somewhat-neat pile before standing from his chair.

"What are you planning today?" He had considered it closely for much longer than he would have expected. The idea was perhaps a bit childish, but hopefully it would act as both a lesson and a way to lower the thief's self-adoration some.

"Teach him how to improvise." The extractor lifted a brow at that but didn't bother questioning it. They made their way into the center of the room, acknowledging Eames' nod of greeting with similar gestures.

"Five minutes be enough?" Cobb inquired, lifting the PASIV onto its usual table between two lawn chairs. Arthur nodded, sinking into one of the chairs and watching as Eames did the same. He had gotten the basic routine down fairly quickly and accepted the needle-tipped connection that he was handed.

"We're going under quickly today," he observed and the thick accent once again made Arthur wonder what a Brit was doing in Mombasa. "No lengthy lectures or warnings to start off with?"

"Not today. We'll have five minutes up here which means-"

"An hour of dreaming; I think I've got that concept, _Professor_." Arthur kept his face blank though he could feel a scowl threatening to surface. "What exactly are we doing?"

"Dreaming." The point man glanced down as he slid the needle carefully into his wrist before meeting the light grey eyes across from him again. Eames was frowning slightly, still holding his own connection in one hand.

"The giant blinking briefcase pretty much gave that part away," he pointed out. "I don't suppose I could ask what the goal is?"

"The goal?" The thief sighed, eyes rolling.

"Goal, objective, aspiration…what's the bloody _point_?" Arthur couldn't help but smirk slightly, though he hid it while leaning over the device quickly to double-check its readings.

"I think that will become obvious fairly quickly," he told the other man. "Go to sleep, Mr. Eames." There was a short silence before Eames grunted, reclining in the chair and pushing the needle through the skin at his wrist. Arthur lay back, both arms across his chest, before nodding to Cobb who depressed the button. The light in the center blinked on and the machine hissed, sending the two men plummeting into the dreamscape.

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><p>"More often that not it will be the waiter. Everyone suspects the butler, but-" Eames cut off in the middle of his sentence, glancing around at the buildings that surrounded them as they strode down the sidewalk. Arthur blinked once, automatically memorizing the various alleys and street intersections that he could see. Eames had dreamed this one up, so it wasn't going to be a maze like they would have found in Cobb's mind. Jumping into a dream and finding oneself in the middle of some conversation or event was the most disconcerting part of extraction, but he had gotten used to it quickly. It was times like this, though, that made him wonder vaguely what sort of conversation they had been having in the first place.<p>

"Looks a bit like LA," Arthur observed. "You ever been Stateside?" The other man shrugged nonchalantly, still taking in the city he had created.

"A few times. Not a whole lot of time for sightseeing, though. Mostly dodging." This earned a raised brow but Arthur had decided as soon as he had researched Eames to not bother asking many questions about his previous 'occupations'. "So what are we actually _doing _here?"

"Learning." The point man stopped and turned to face his companion as he followed suit. "About projections. You've seen them, correct?" Eames glanced across the street at a few people milling about and nodded.

"In every trip, yeah. So these would belong to…"

"Me. You're the dreamer here, my subconscious populates the area." He stepped to one side as a teenage boy on a moped flew past while offering the two men an odd glance. "Now so far we haven't been involved in the actual dreams enough to let them notice. Any idea what will happen when they do?" The thief frowned very slightly, his hands slipping into his pockets as he scanned the area.

"If you know about it, I'd assume they'd just continue on with business and-" He cut off as Arthur shook his head and the frown grew. "What, then?"

"The mind isn't made to share dreams." The black-haired man began walking again, allowing Eames to catch up before he continued. "It's supposed to be a place of privacy and seclusion where secrets can be safely stored. When a dreamer starts to shift things in a dream, the mind takes notice of it. It immediately begins searching for the foreign presence through the projections." He glanced over, nodding toward a businesswoman that had looked up from reading her newspaper to watch them. "Imagine the immune system attempting to rid the body of a virus. The mind acts much in the same way."

"The immune system…" Eames paused as if trying to recall his biology lessons. "It attacks viruses. Destroys them."

"So you've got the basic concept." They stopped at a crosswalk, watching a few cars fly past. Each of the drivers turned to look at the two before continuing on and Eames glanced at Arthur curiously.

"You said they notice if the dream is changed. Why are they looking at us now?"

"By talking about it my subconscious is picking up on the clues. It's beginning to realize that something isn't quite right with the situation." They crossed the street in silence and Arthur vaguely realized he had no idea where they were supposed to be walking. When they reached a small plaza he halted again and glanced around. "Change something."

"Change-"

"You're the dreamer here. Shift something; the architecture, the weather…anything, use your imagination."

"For what purpose, exactly?" He was a stubborn one…the man sighed.

"You need to learn to improvise. Think on the spur of the moment, imagine your way out of situations. All of us have to, though Cobb is the best. Now just," he gestured at the world in general, "change something."

"What about the projections?" And he caught on quickly. They were still being stared at, though no one had made a move toward them yet. Grimacing, Arthur knelt and picked up two pistols that certainly hadn't been there a moment earlier. Handing one to Eames he shrugged.

"We'll see how much they like you." It took a few more moments of almost-wary staring before the thief looked around, eyes narrowing in what he could assume was concentration. Another couple of seconds and the first white flakes began drifting around, caught in a small breeze. Arthur blinked, turning to stare up at the sky which was still miraculously clear.

"Snow?" he inquired and the other man shrugged.

"I like snow."

"It's definitely…different." He brushed a few flakes impatiently off of his suit but it didn't do much as they just fell thicker. "Nice large change, too. That's sure to-" A gunshot stopped him mid-sentence and he turned to stare at Eames who still had the gun lifted and who's eyes were wider than he had ever seen them.

"That one had a bloody knife!" Arthur looked behind him, blinking at the sight of a hot-dog vendor with a hole in his head, still clutching a knife that he assumed was usually used for food preparation rather than murder. Managing a small laugh, he cocked his own gun and scanned the area as the projections, seemingly as one, began hurrying toward the two men standing on the sidewalk.

"And now it gets interesting." Eames swore eloquently and, probably on impulse, stepped closer to his companion.

"You knew this would happen?" he demanded, his gunfire echoing as he stopped another projection mid-stride.

"I've done this before." Arthur reminded him. "Best way to teach you why you shouldn't change things so drastically."

"A simple warning would've been enough!" The crowd wasn't too large but occasionally one got too close to shoot properly and they had to shove it back before firing.

"It's also a good reminder -" the point man grunted as he managed to kick the feet out from under a street performer - where had _that _come from? - before finishing it off, "that these aren't people. They're simply projections, and if one of them is a threat to the job it has to be taken out without hesitation."

"Oh, no problem there," Eames snarled. "After all, it's essentially you I'm shooting right now, isn't it?" That earned him a glare but it was short-lived as the attacks continued. They were mostly focused on the dreamer, of course - it might have been more logical to bring Eames in as the subject, but there was an odd satisfaction in seeing the projections converging on the British man. Probably childish, but satisfying nonetheless. A minute or so in, said Brit suddenly swore and lashed out at the next attacker with a fist, sending it sprawling onto the concrete.

"It's far more efficient to shoot them, you know!"

"Yeah, that'd be great! Much easier to manage if I still had bullets!"

"Bullets-?" Arthur let out a frustrated sigh, not daring to turn to face the other man. "It's a _dream, _Eames! Improvise!"

"You improvise; I'm a little busy at the moment!" With a grunt the point man reached under his coat, pulling out the large gun that had appeared there and shoving it toward Eames. The thief took it without question but glanced the weapon over as he hoisted it to his shoulder. "A SMG? Really?"

"In situations like this you can't be afraid to dream a little bigger."

The machine gun quickly thinned out the attackers and Arthur felt a slight pounding in his head; he couldn't tell whether it was from the constant noise of the guns or because parts of his subconscious were getting brutally murdered, but that didn't matter too much. After a while the area was quiet. The projections had stopped crawling from the buildings - for now, at least - and the men let their weapons lower. After a pause Eames whirled around, his glare icy.

"Ruddy brilliant subconscious you got on ya," he growled. "You bring me in here just to get me attacked?"

"It's part of the training," Arthur told him. It wasn't entirely a lie; they did have to learn that projections would react violently when the dreamer was discovered. Most people, however, did not go through practical lessons like this one. "At least mine wasn't militarized."

"They can be bloody _militarized?_" He hadn't expected a temper on this one…apparently being attacked within a dream wasn't something Eames could take in stride. The thought was fairly satisfying.

"If properly trained against extractors, yes-"

"I didn't sign up to get killed, _Tobias_!" The use of his first name was similar to being called by his surname in the States and Arthur met the narrowed eyes levelly with a frown.

"You can't die in dreams," he reminded the fuming man. "If you're killed you wake up." There was a silence in which Eames continued to glare daggers at him before he glanced down at the gun he still held. The point man didn't have more than a split second to react as it was suddenly lifted, the muzzle leveled at his forehead. "Eames-"

The gun flashed and there was a very brief blinding pain before the fire shifted into the all-too-familiar overhead light. Arthur had to blink a few times before he sat up, tugging the tube out of his arm with a muttered curse. Cobb looked up from where he still sat beside the machine with a rather surprised smirk.

"You can't tell me you were killed before he was," he said, glancing at the still-sleeping man. "There's still two minutes on the clock. Outlasted by a rookie? He was even the dreamer this round."

"Oh no, we were doing fine," Arthur snapped, getting to his feet. "Wake him up."

"Why did-"

"_Wake him up, _Dom." The extractor frowned before shrugging and picking up a small glass of water that lay to one side. He splashed it onto Eames' face without hesitation and they watched as the thief jerked awake, rubbing the water from his eyes. It took him a moment before he blinked, sitting up and automatically clutching at his wrist. He turned to peer at the connection before pulling it out and letting it fall to the floor. Arthur crossed his arms as he glared down at the drowsy man, grateful that the sedatives had long since stopped effecting him after he woke.

"You enjoy being hit, Eames?" he demanded. Eames squinted up at him, propping himself up on his hands as he frowned.

"Seems to happen whether I enjoy it or not," he mused. "What's the occasion this time?"

"I'm going to have to concentrate on survival as it is. I don't need to be worrying about someone on my 'team'," he lifted one hand to put air quotes around the word, "taking a gun to my head in the middle of a job!" He could feel Cobb's eyes on the back of his head and knew the other man was surprised. Whether it was shock at his point man's sudden burst of emotion or dismay at discovering that his thief was some little - he didn't even let his mind finish that sentence.

"Not sure if you've heard, Arthur, but it's considered polite to warn a man before you take him to the slaughterhouse, imaginary or not." The pervious snap was gone from his voice. Perhaps he didn't want to lose his temper again in front of his employer.

"You won't _have _a warning in someone else's mind," Arthur reminded him. "You have to be able to improvise. You have to remember that it's a _dream._" The other man remained silent, meeting the stony look he was receiving evenly. Cobb finally broke the silence, reaching for the two wires and returning them to their spools in the PASIV.

"We're calling it a day," he stated in his 'no room for debate' voice. "I think we need to go over ideas for the dream's layout tomorrow. Will we see you there, Eames?" The British man didn't reply at fist. He finally pushed himself to his feet, sending Arthur a small sneer.

"Wouldn't miss it." Swinging his coat back on, he nodded curtly at the others before turning and striding out the door. As soon as it shut Arthur dodged around Cobb and went straight to the nearest table. He pulled the red die from his pocket and let it clatter to the hard surface, brown eyes locked on the totem as it bounced before coming to a halt. _Three. Always three. _As his partner came up behind him he scooped the game piece back into his hand, impulsively making sure the other man didn't see the roll's outcome.

"You alright?" The question was simple enough but he could hear real concern behind it. It made sense; he was the point man for a reason. He was the calm and logic to balance out Cobb's passion and utter creativity. He wasn't supposed to blow up like that. With a heavy sigh, Arthur pocketed the totem again and turned to face his boss.

"I'm fine. Just had to remind myself that if I kill him now he'd _stay _dead…"

**Angry Arthur is angry. X3 I had far too much fun with that scene.**

**You may be questioning; **_**why three? Why must it land on three? OMG SIGNIFICANCE? **_**And I respond with a simple: Lawl no, it's just a number. ^^ Why not three?**

**Hope you liked this one! It was extremely fun. Now I need more ideas of Arthur and Eames arguments because I'm almost to the end of the writing in my notebook! Send me your thoughts! I absolutely adore reviews. They keep my brain fed. You wouldn't want my brain to starve, would you?Until next time!**

**~Waggy**


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